On Holiday

I find myself in Never-Never Land

upon a beach where I apply emotion

to each and every passing beauteous buttock

that titillates my eyes behind dark glasses.

Should I apply a lotion to my senses,

control myself to some extent perhaps?

I find those bottoms too appealing now,

roll over, hiding my priapic bulge

from general sight, and more specifically,

from you, my Love, eyes shut, sun-drinking there,

who wouldn’t dare to show a pubic hair

to all and sundry on the beach with us.

        What if I let it all hang out one day?

        Would you still love me any other way?